


Détente

by MugetsuPipefox



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-26
Updated: 2014-11-26
Packaged: 2018-02-27 02:09:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2674955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MugetsuPipefox/pseuds/MugetsuPipefox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Show deviation. One-shot. After noticing Aithusa's disappearance, Merlin goes looking for her... and finds more than he'd expected. No pairings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Détente

Merlin was almost surprised by the level of animosity that had crept over him as he stared down at the wooden lid at his feet. The pitiful cries that had led him there had stopped when he’d approached, but he wasn’t sure whether that made him feel any better; the silence, he found, was just as bad; grating on his nerves like a dagger to the heart. He didn’t need to lift the lid to know what he was looking at, nor who was inside. He didn’t need to throw the hatch back on its hinges for the dread to seep into his very bones even while boiling anger flowed through his veins.

He didn’t need to. But he did anyway.

Even with all the thoughts swirling like a storm in his head, even knowing what he would find, nothing could ever have prepared him for the sight that met him. A once white dragon, now more grey in colour, was curled in on itself, trying to make itself as small as physically possible to relieve the pain of a body that had long outgrown the confines of the pit.

Aithusa lifted her head towards him, even as she squinted her eyes against the onslaught of light. Merlin’s breath hitched at the sight of her, so mutilated after such a long time cramped in the dark. The anger flared into unbridled fury, and in that moment he wanted nothing more than to find the one responsible for the atrocity before him and tear them apart. Slowly.

Merlin took a deep breath, crouching down on his haunches. “Oh, Aithusa,” he sighed, letting grief and pity smother the fire of rage. “Can you get out?”

The white dragon had finally adjusted to the change in brightness and she stared up at him, so many emotions passing behind her eyes. For a moment she merely stood there, making no move to free herself from the hell around her, before finally she gave a distraught mewl, turning her head to look behind her.

It was only then that Merlin realised she wasn’t alone in the oubliette.

“Merlin.” It was amazing how she could convey confusion, disgust and a small amount of hope all in one name.

“Morgana.”

“What are you doing here?” she hissed. “Come to gloat?”

Merlin narrowed his eyes. “No. I’m not cruel.”

“So poisoning someone isn’t considered cruel these days?” she practically spat.

“How about killing innocent people? How about shoving a snake in my neck? How about unleashing the Dorocha just so you could claim a kingdom that isn’t rightfully yours? Or betraying your friends? Would you consider those cruel?”

“According to you, betrayal isn’t cruel.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you, Morgana,” he said resignedly. “But it was either you or let Camelot – let Arthur – fall, and I wasn’t about to let that happen.”

“Why do you care about him so much?”

“Why do you hate him?”

“He would see my kind dead, just like his father! And you expect me to just sit idly by?”

“Arthur is not your father,” Merlin snapped. “And it’s because the only magic he’s seen is being used to do him or his kingdom harm at the hands of people like you that he’s been led to believe that it’s evil.”

Aithusa cried out, and both Merlin and Morgana fell silent, turning to her.

“I’m sorry, Aithusa,” he told her sincerely. “You’re right. We shouldn’t be fighting when we clearly have bigger problems.”

“How do you know her?” Morgana asked suspiciously, her tone dark.

Merlin spared her only a glance before his gaze returned to his kin. “Can you get out?” he asked her a second time. And, like the first time, the dragon looked back at Morgana. “Well, I can’t very well do anything about that if you’re down there, can I?”

Aithusa seemed to accept this argument, lowering herself down slightly before springing upwards, her claws catching on the lip of the pit and, with a little help from Merlin, hauled herself up and out. Merlin crouched in front of her, running his hand down the side of her neck as he took in the damage. He hoped none of it would be irreversible. The white dragon squirmed, her attention returning to Morgana once more.

“Alright, alright,” Merlin relented, pulling away. Leaving his bag with Aithusa, he swung his legs over the edge and allowed himself to drop the slight distance to the bottom.

The first thing he noticed was the smell. It was the stench of rot and decay, the whole place seeming to be covered in a layer of filth that no amount of cleaning could ever remove. Bile rose in his throat but he forced it down. Aithusa had been stuck down here for lord knows how long, trapped in the dark and the cramped against stone, no fresh air and likely very little in the way of food. Aithusa and Morgana both. That was a fate he wouldn’t even wish on his worst enemy.

Speaking of whom, she was watching him with a hint of fear that she quickly concealed with her usual look of contempt.

“What do you want?” she asked dangerously.

“Well, I was intending to free you, but I can leave if you want.”

Morgana clamped her mouth shut, likely against some scathing retort. Even she was willing to take advantage of an opportunity to escape, regardless that he was the one she would have to rely on.

“These are magic-suppressing manacles,” Merlin noted with a frown, inspecting the inscribed shackles around Morgana’s wrists.

“Obviously,” she rolled her eyes. “Otherwise we would have gotten out of here long ago.”

Merlin ignored her. “This might make things a bit more difficult.”

“Why should their nature change anything?”

Merlin sighed, not really wanting to answer that. He was certain letting Morgana know about his magic would be a very bad idea, but how else could he explain the predicament? Then again, he’d had plenty of practice of making things up with Arthur… although something told him Morgana would be a little harder to fool. But it wasn’t like he could tell her he was worried his magic wouldn’t work against them.

“How often do they come to feed you?” he asked, getting an idea, but not really wanting to know. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to like the answer.

“I don’t know,” Morgana replied. “It’s hard to keep track of time when the only thing you can see is darkness.”

Merlin frowned. For all he knew, no one would be coming for a long while and he really didn’t want to have to wait that long. She’d been stuck down there for far too long already. Nor did he want to be there when someone came – he’d much rather get them out and far away as quickly and with as little notice as possible. But without the key or magic, what other way could he remove the manacles?

…Unless he didn’t remove them, but the chains instead. The main priority right then was just to get her out of the pit. If he could find a way to break the chains from the wall they could still escape with the added bonus that she wouldn’t be able to use her magic to attack him when she was free. It would be easy enough to do with magic, but there was still the problem that he didn’t really want her to know. But what other choice did he have?

“Don’t make me regret this,” he sighed, pressing the palms of his hands against the chains holding Morgana to the wall. “Ábíete.”

A loud crack reverberated around the pit as a few chain links shattered, crumbling to the ground as Morgana’s hands fell heavily to her lap. The witch was staring at him wide-eyed, her face a few shades paler than it had been, and her expression seemingly torn between shock and fury.

“You have magic,” she said, her tone unreadable.

“Yes,” Merlin avoided her eyes but not daring to turn his back on her. She was cut off from her magic but that didn’t make her any less dangerous.

“How long?”

He was honestly surprised at the question, his gaze shooting up to meet hers. “…Since I was born.”

“And yet you still serve a man that would see you dead.”

“Arthur is not like his father!” Merlin snapped, tired of saying it over and over again. “He’s a good man.”

“But he doesn’t know, does he?” Morgana sneered. “If he’s such a ‘good man’, why don’t you tell him?”

Merlin clenched his jaw. How could he respond to that? He honestly wasn’t all that sure himself. He knew that a large part of it was because he knew how much Arthur loved his father and he didn’t want to make the young king choose between him and Uther, even despite the fact that Uther was gone. But there was also the fear of how Arthur would react. It was no secret that the man, while not as hostile as his father, was not accepting of magic. And if Arthur had him banished or, potentially, killed, he wouldn’t be able to protect him from all the various threats to Arthur’s life. It was just something he couldn’t risk. Not yet, anyway. The time just wasn’t right.

He’d waited too long to answer and now Morgana was speaking again. “You’re a traitor to your kind, Merlin,” she spat, rage overcoming shock. “The truth is you won’t tell him because you know what he does to our kind. You’re scared. Just like I was when my magic showed itself and I came to you for help! And what did you do? Even though we were the same you still didn’t tell me your dirty little secret. What, did you think I would have turned you in when I was in the same position? You abandoned me, Merlin. You tried to kill me!”

Merlin didn’t say anything. He couldn’t tell her about what Kilgharrah had told him, but nor could he refute what she was saying.

“You don’t deserve to have magic, traitor.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t want things to turn out like this. But I believe in the world Arthur will create. One day magic will be free again, but how can it when people use it for their own selfish gain or for revenge? How can anyone convince Arthur of the good it is capable of when all he has seen it do is evil?”

“Don’t try to turn this back on me.”

Merlin sighed, looking away. “We should get out of here,” he said after a time. “Aithusa is waiting.” He held out a hand to help Morgana to her feet but she stubbornly refused, using the wall to struggle upright. She swayed slightly once up and for a moment Merlin worried she would fall but she quickly steadied herself, glaring at him with a look that could only mean ‘don’t touch me’.

The oubliette was too deep for them to be able to reach the opening, but working together it would prove to be little problem.

Merlin cupped his hands together, turning to face Morgana. “Here, I’ll give you a leg up. And Aithusa,” he called up, the white dragon’s head appearing over the edge looking down at them, “be ready to help pull her up.”

When Morgana made no show of moving, Merlin grumbled, “Come on, we don’t have all day.”

Her face terse, Morgana slowly hobbled her way over and bunched up the hem of her dress enough that it wouldn’t hinder her as she used Merlin’s hands as a step. With one good heave, the warlock managed to get her up high enough that Aithusa could grab the back of her dress and help pull her out.

In hindsight, Merlin figured he probably should have accounted for the possibility of Morgana just leaving him down there without a way to get himself out. And as he stood in the base of the pit, looking up, he began to wonder if he hadn’t just made a terrible mistake.

“I should just leave you here to rot,” Morgana glared down at him and he breathed a silent sigh of relief. “It would be less than you deserve.”

“You’re welcome,” Merlin huffed, because even when he knew he was going to need her help his mouth was still disobedient.

Aithusa mewled sadly at the woman, turning her gaze down to her lord. Even in her supposed betrayal, at least she hadn’t completely abandoned him.

Morgana turned her gaze on the dragon, confusion pinching her brows together. Merlin had neglected to answer the witch’s earlier question about his connection to Aithusa, and it was likely still at the forefront of her mind. But just as Aithusa had an apparent soft spot for Morgana, so too did Morgana appear to have warmed up to the young dragoness.

“But he is a traitor,” he thought he heard her murmur.

Aithusa looked up at her friend, the slight shaking of her head an indication of her own feelings on the matter.

Morgana seemed to deflate, giving in to the dragon’s wishes. “Alright then,” and she sounded far from happy about it. The witch laid herself down across the ground, reaching out with her chained hands towards him.

Merlin reached up with a hand of his own, stretching as far as he could, but there was still a good inch between their fingers. He tried jumping but still failed to gain a grip.

“Hmph, maybe we’ll end up leaving you here after all,” Morgana smirked, even as she strained a little further downwards.

“I don’t think I really thought this through,” Merlin laughed despite himself.

He narrowly ducked out of the way in time as Aithusa suddenly jumped down, circling around until she was behind him before using her head and neck to give him an upwards push. The distance between witch and warlock now closed, Merlin easily grabbed onto Morgana’s hand and she pulled up with all her fleeting strength.

“I think you’re needed up there, Aithusa,” Merlin said, not turning to look at his kin as he struggled to find purchase on the stone wall.

The dragon acquiesced, however, easily leaping out of the oubliette and helping Morgana to heave him up. In a matter of moments he joined them up on the surface, breathing in the fresh air almost greedily.

“Thank you,” he said after a moment.

“For what?”

“Not leaving me down there.”

“Well, consider my debt to you paid.”

They sat in silence for a while, Morgana and Aithusa relishing the sunlight. They wouldn’t have much more of an opportunity that day – the sun was low in the sky, beautiful streaks of pink, red and purple mingling with the blue.

“Come on,” Merlin said, hauling himself to his feet as he snatched up his bag. Morgana turned a confused expression on him. “We’re running out of light and I’d like to set up camp as far away from here as possible.”

That didn’t seem to lessen her lack of understanding any. He held his hand out to her to help her up, pleased that, after a moment, she accepted the help this time. He tightened his grip on her forearm when she swayed unsteadily and helped her hobble back towards the tree-line where he’d tied his horse, Aithusa shuffling alongside them.

There was very little in the way of daylight left by the time Merlin had deemed them far away enough from the oubliette and began setting up camp – an act that only took a few minutes with the help of his magic (there was no point hiding it when Morgana already knew). As soon as he’d set a pot of water over the fire to boil, Merlin dragged his bag over to him and began rummaging through it, pulling out his spare change of clothes.

“Here,” he said, holding them out to Morgana, who was seated on the opposite side of the cheery blaze, looking like she wanted to be anywhere but there. “I know they’re probably going to be way too big, but it’s all I’ve got. There’s a stream back that way,” he gestured over his shoulder, “where you can bathe and wash your dress if you want.”

Morgana eyed the proffered clothes warily. “Why are you helping me?” she asked.

“Honestly, I don’t really know,” Merlin shrugged, his arm still outstretched. “Maybe it’s because you were my friend once and I still can’t bear for you to suffer needlessly. Maybe it’s because Aithusa seems to like you; I mean, dragons are supposed to be good judges of character, so I guess that means you can’t be all bad, right?

“You were once one of the most kind-hearted people I’ve ever met, and I know your intentions are good, but you’re going about it the wrong way. Innocent people shouldn’t have to suffer for the acts of the few. I guess, maybe, I’m hoping that the old you – the one who would ride into battle for a peasant village in another kingdom without a second thought – is still in there somewhere.”

Morgana didn’t say anything, studying him closely. Whatever she was looking for she apparently either found or gave up searching for, for she reached over and accepted the clothes with no further protest. Aithusa edged over to her, helping her make her way in the direction of the stream.

As minutes slowly ticked into almost a full hour, Merlin was starting to suspect that maybe, just maybe, Morgana had ditched him. Honestly, he shouldn’t have been surprised. They were technically enemies and she had no reason to stay now that he’d freed her (something he was sure he was going to regret sooner or later – even if just because of the tongue lashing he was going to receive from Kilgharrah). But a part of him couldn’t help but feel disappointed. He’d wanted to see if there was anything he could do for Aithusa, and, he supposed, he’d be lying if the thought of trying to get through to Morgana hadn’t crossed his mind. He’d meant what he’d said; that he hoped the old her was still in there. Her goal was honourable, even if her means were not; after all, wasn’t he doing the same thing? Sure, his priority was protecting Arthur – and not just because a dragon had waffled on about destiny and coins – but in the end, that act was supposed to usher in an age where magic and those who practice it would be free.

And so he was more than a little surprise when the witch he’d just been thinking about and the white dragon meandered back through the trees towards him, reclaiming her spot on the other side of the fire.

Morgana looked absolutely ridiculous in his breaches and blue tunic. They were, as he’d suspected, too large for her. The shirt alone could have served as a dress, although it would have been far too short to be decent. He watched silently as she laid her soaked and tattered dress before the fire to dry.

“What?” she snapped irritably after a moment of his staring.

“Nothing,” he replied quickly. “Just surprised that you came back, is all.”

The look that came across her face very nearly made him laugh. It was like the thought of making a break for it hadn’t crossed her mind at all and she was belatedly realising that it probably would have been a good idea.

“Anyway, dinner’s ready,” Merlin said, serving a small amount of the broth into a bowl and passing it to her along with a piece of bread. “It’s not much, but I want to make sure your stomach can handle it before trying with anything richer.”

Morgana accepted the offering with a quiet ‘thank you’, stirring the broth idly for a moment before taking the first tentative spoonful.

“As for you, Aithusa,” Merlin began, turning his attention to his kin. “I have no idea how starvation works with dragons. Can you even eat broth?”

Aithusa, as he’d expected, didn’t say anything.

“Maybe I could try and catch something for you…”

Aithusa got to her feet, shaking her head, before slowly trotting towards the tree line.

“Or you could do it,” he continued, watching her go. “Don’t go too far!”

“You know, you never did tell me how you know her,” Morgana’s voice drew his attention.

“That’s…” Well, he couldn’t say it was difficult to explain – because it wasn’t – but what else could he say?

“And I’m also surprised that you haven’t told Arthur about her; not that I’m complaining.”

“If I told Arthur he would likely go hunt her, and I can’t let that happen,” Merlin shook his head sadly. “Dragons are beautiful, incredible creatures. Arthur just can’t see that yet.”

“And you’re so confident that he will because…?”

“Because they are creatures of magic, and–”

“-and you believe Arthur will one day free magic,” Morgana finished for him, with an air of someone who was reciting something.

“Yes.”

“How can you be so sure?” she asked, sounding like she was honestly wanting to know. “How can you know that he’s different from Uther?”

“Because Arthur is a good man; he’s honourable and just and I believe that if he is shown the good magic is capable of, years of prejudice can be changed. It also doesn’t hurt that he’s the prophesised One and Future King,” he added quietly in an afterthought.

But apparently Morgana had heard him anyway. “You can’t be serious,” she gaped. “Arthur is the Once and Future King?!”

“Is it really that hard to believe?”

Her face drained of colour, her eyes widening, as she seemed to realise something else. “Wait… you’re… you can’t be…” she was genuinely afraid as she stared at him in a new light – the same look she’d worn when she’d walked in on him as Dragoon searching for the Fomorroh. “…Emrys.”

Merlin didn’t say anything, averting his eyes, but to Morgana that was answer enough. In hindsight he probably should have expected that she’d make the jump from Arthur and Once and Future Kingness to his magic and protection of Arthur to Emrys. 

They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence after that. Both of them were unsettled, and the way Morgana kept shifting like she was preparing to bolt at a moment’s notice even as she watched him in fear and outrage certainly wasn’t helping matters. Within the hour Aithusa returned, a half-eaten something (which had probably once been a rabbit) dangling from her maw.

After she’d finished her meal, Merlin had ushered her over to get as good a look at her injuries as he could with only the fire to light them, whispering a few spells here and there where he knew them. In the end, though, there really wasn’t much he could do for her. Kilgharrah likely would know more, but he was far from happy with the hatchling and Merlin suspected he wouldn’t want to even see her for a while yet.

The night wore on and at his insistence, Morgana allowed him to take the first watch (after convincing her that no, he hadn’t saved her from the oubliette just to kill her in her sleep). However, when Merlin woke up the following morning, Morgana and Aithusa were gone.

He found his clothes folded in a neat pile where she’d been, her own dress nowhere in sight. Merlin sighed as he tucked the clothes back into his bag and went about packing up the campsite. If he left within the hour he would be back in Camelot by sundown. That gave him several hours to come up with a good excuse to give Arthur about his absence. 

As he set off at a trot (thankful Morgana had left him the horse), his mind cast back to the witch. He hoped that, even if he hadn’t managed to convince her of what he believed, he’d at least given her something to think about.

**Author's Note:**

> I disclaim ownership of Merlin  
> Apologies for any OOCness


End file.
